


Looking for techniques

by disarm_d



Series: Sweater Vests [1]
Category: Panic! at the Disco
Genre: Alternate Universe, First Time, M/M, Period-Typical Homophobia, Pining, Sexual Repression, UST, sweater vests
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-08-07
Updated: 2007-08-07
Packaged: 2018-04-12 16:40:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,440
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4486944
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/disarm_d/pseuds/disarm_d
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i> Spencer can't believe himself for trying something like this.  He can't believe that he'd risk his friendship with Brendon, his friendships with everyone else if Brendon decided to tell, his place in the school if Brendon caused enough fuss.  Except that when Brendon's tongue brushes over his lower lip, it's easier to understand why.</i>
  <br/>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	Looking for techniques

**Author's Note:**

> So, Panic! did a photoshoot, and someone had the most genius of all genius ideas to put Spencer Smith in [a sweater vest.](http://i199.photobucket.com/albums/aa273/disarm_d/zoomagazine15_03.jpg?t=1224555384) A sweater vest, you guys. Oh god. [I posted about](http://disarm-d.livejournal.com/18920.html#cutid2) how bad I wanted an AU where Panic! were going to some kind of prissy British school A While Ago (like maybe the late 50s, early 60s-ish) and they wore sweater vests and cardigans and maybe Spencer and Brendon had a thing, even though they really weren't supposed to, because there was still a lot of homophobia. And that spiralled. And now we have this.
> 
> Thank you so much to everyone who responded to my post asking for help about what the British university system was like back then. Especially [](http://moondarri.livejournal.com/profile)[**moondarri**](http://moondarri.livejournal.com/).  <3<3<3 And thank you kindly to [](http://provetheworst.livejournal.com/profile)[**provetheworst**](http://provetheworst.livejournal.com/) & [](http://theaerosolkid.livejournal.com/profile)[](http://theaerosolkid.livejournal.com/)**theaerosolkid** for betaing. I was a tremendous amount of trouble to beta for this time around and they were patient and lovely and amazing, and anything that manages to be correctly British is only because of Chex's awesomeness (oh my god, thank you so much for going over this the second and third times!). So much love, you guys.
> 
> This is incredibly historically (and culturally) inaccurate. I used the different time period just as a backdrop for what I wanted to write about; this in no way, shape, or form resembles actual historical fiction.

_the 1960's-ish_

 

 

**first**

 

Ryan seems entranced, but Spencer still thinks that _The Rime of the Ancient Mariner_ lasts about three parts too long. Or at least it does with the way that the guy on stage is reading it, pausing at every line break and accentuating the rhyming words. Spencer elbows Ryan. When he tries to whisper this to him, Ryan just shushes him.

Spencer sighs. He looks around the room. It's usually a cafe, but they've moved all the tables around to turn it into a makeshift theater. At the other end, there's a table set up with-- Spencer can quite tell, but it looks food related.

"I'll go get us something," he whispers to Ryan.

Ryan nods at him without taking his eyes off the stage.

The table's filled with biscuits and brownies. Spencer cocks his hips to the side and tries to decide what he wants.

"Tough decision," someone says from just behind him.

Spencer turns around, and says, "I know." He's met the guy before, they've had a couple of classes together. Spencer knew his name too, something like--

"It's Brendon," the guy says. "We were in--"

"No, no, I remember," Spencer says.

"You're Spencer, right?"

Spencer nods. "So, how did you end up here?"

"My friend Pete dragged me over," Brendon says gesturing to a dark haired man who's whispering loudly to the guy wearing a hat, sitting beside him. "I think there may have been a slight confusion about whether this was romantic with a capital or lower case 'r'. Who brought you?"

"Ryan," Spencer says gesturing.

Ryan looks up and sees him pointing.

Brendon gives a little wave. "I think I've had class with him before, too."

"He was my roommate in boarding school," Spencer says. "For something like ten years."

"Huh," Brendon says. "You share a room with him now?"

"I've got a single. Did you miss the part where I said that he was my roommate for _ten years_ ," Spencer repeats.

Brendon laughs.

"Your friend looks kind of busy, you could, ah. I mean, if you wanted to, you could come sit with me and Ryan," Spencer offers.

"That'd be good," Brendon says.

 

 

 

 

 

Ryan tells them to be quiet four times before the reading is over, despite Spencer's best attempts to whisper quietly.

"I'm going to go thank the man who read," Ryan says, giving Spencer a dirty look.

Spencer rolls his eyes. "I think Jon's around here somewhere too," he says. "Bring him over to say hi if you find him."

"Alright."

Brendon gives a little laugh.

"What?" Spencer asks.

"It's just funny that you two know Jon as well. I've never met anyone who _doesn't_ know him."

Spencer shrugs. He watches as Ryan turns from the guest speaker to one of the girls sitting at his table. Sneaky bastard.

"Did you prefer the biscuits or the brownies?" he asks Brendon. They're going to be waiting here for a while.

 

 

Jon walks up to their table. "Hey Brendon, Spencer," he says.

"How're you doing?" Spencer asks.

"Good, good," Jon says. "Ryan was saying something about seeing if that cinema down the street was still open. Maybe they're playing a late show tonight. Did you want to come?"

Brendon looks over at Spencer. "Did you want--"

"If, ah, I mean, if _you_ wanted to."

"No," Brendon says quickly. "We could just stay here. Unless there was something--?"

"Here's good," Spencer says, ducking his head awkwardly.

"Maybe next time," Brendon tells Jon.

"Alright then," Jon says. "Good night lads, I'll see you later."

"Bye, Jon," Brendon says.

 

\--

 

Ryan ends up going to the film with Jon, so Spencer and Brendon walk back to campus together.

Brendon's room is a couple of floors above Spencer's, so he walks Spencer to his door. Spencer feels a ridiculous urge to blurt something out, to say something that will get Brendon to stay, not to say goodnight. But he manages to curb it.

"See you later," is all he says. Brendon grins and waves goodbye.

 

\--

 

Spencer wakes up unusually early the next morning and can't fall back to sleep. Instead of lying in bed as he usually would, he dresses and heads down to the dining hall. The huge tables are mostly empty. Spencer's in the middle of trying to decide if he should backtrack to his room and get a book when he notices Brendon sitting by himself.

He walks over.

"Hi," he says, standing awkwardly in front of Brendon.

"Spencer!" Brendon says. "Come sit with me."

Spencer sits in the seat beside him. "Why are you up so early?" he asks.

"I'm kind of a morning person," Brendon says in a stage whisper, "but don't tell anyone. I like taking early classes."

Spencer's jaw drops open in mock surprise. "What, on purpose?"

Brendon nods sheepishly.

"Huh," Spencer says. "I've heard about people like you. I just didn't know they really existed."

Brendon elbows Spencer until he laughs and says, "Sod off. Alright, alright, you exist."

"So," Brendon asks. "Where's your breakfast?"

"Didn't get it yet," Spencer says.

"Want some of mine?" Brendon breaks his muffin in half.

"Thanks."

 

\---

 

 

**second**

 

Brendon shows up with a scarf wrapped three times around his neck and the ends tucked under the lapel of his tweed jacket. For some reason, Brendon doesn't look like an old man wearing tweed, not like Ryan did, slouched over with his hands in his pockets, wandering the campus during the long winter months. Brendon looks-- Anyway.

"It isn't _that_ cold outside," Spencer says as he watches Brendon unwrap his scarf, tucking his fingers through his belt loops so he doesn't try to do something stupid like try to help Brendon take it off.

"I'm so sick of being indoors all the time," Brendon says. He's working on the buttons of his coat now, pulling them open slowly. "I'm so sick of the library."

"Yeah," Spencer says. "Me too. That doesn't change the temperature outside though."

Brendon huffs out a little laugh and rolls his eyes. "So, I thought I'd try to study outdoors. It's a lot colder when you aren't moving."

"Oh," Spencer says. "Right. Oh, so do you not want to hang out tonight? My room's tiny and--"

"All the rooms are tiny," Brendon says. "And no, I want to see-- I mean. We had plans."

"We could go somewhere," Spencer offers.

"Yeah?" Brendon asks.

"Even just for a walk. Do you want to?"

Brendon nods and starts buttoning his coat back up.

 

\--

 

The campus is gorgeous in a way that Spencer never notices when he's rushing to and from class. Spencer looks around, taking it all in, as they make their way across campus and towards the main road.

"Where do you want to go?" Brendon asks.

"We could go to that cafe again," Spencer says.

"Jon said that they were doing a-- Oh, what was it? Some musician was coming or something. It'll be really busy."

"Oh," Spencer says. "Did Jon invite you? Why didn't you go?"

"We had plans," Brendon says.

"It could have waited. It's not like we're even going anywhere specific."

Brendon looks over at him and smiles, big and open and Spencer has to look away quickly.

"I think I know where we could go," Brendon says.

 

\--

 

Brendon takes them to a playground.

It's a close thing, but Spencer manages to beat him in their race to the swing set. Brendon can swing higher than he can though, so it ends up pretty much equal.

Spencer notices how cold the metal links of the chains holding the swing up are as he concedes defeat and slows his legs so that he's barely rocking off the ground. Brendon is still flying up in the air beside him, arching his back and pointing his toes, swooping past Spencer in a rush on his way up and down.

Spencer stills his swing and balances on his feet, tucking his hands into his pockets.

Brendon kicks at the ground on each pass until he's stopped swinging and says, "Are you cold? Do you want to go back?"

Spencer is cold, but he doesn't want to go back. He thinks for a minute. "There's a. On the radio, there's this programme. Ryan was telling me about it. It's tonight I think. You could come back to my room and listen with me, if you wanted."

"Yes," Brendon says quickly. "That sounds good."

 

\--

 

Brendon walks in and sits on the edge of Spencer's bed. Spencer pauses for a minute before sitting down beside him.

Spencer rubs his palms over his trousers and the swishing of the fabric is the only sound in the room.

"Are your hands still cold?" Brendon asks. He reaches out and hovers his hand over Spencer's for a moment, giving Spencer a chance to pull away. Spencer doesn't.

"Yeah," Spencer says. He hopes that Brendon doesn't notice the way his voice cracks. "Still cold."

Brendon's hand is warm when he covers it over Spencer's. Spencer looks over at him quickly. He's looking down, but he darts his eyes to the side like maybe he notices anyway.

Brendon squeezes his hand once and then pulls away. "You're probably, ah. You're probably tired. I should let you sleep."

"Alright," Spencer says. His fingers twitch, but he doesn't grab Brendon's hand back. He just follows Brendon to the door.

They both reach for the door handle at the same time.

"Sorry," Spencer says, as his fingers curl over Brendon's.

"It's fine," Brendon says and he opens the door.

 

\--

 

**third**  


Spencer and Brendon fall into a bit of a routine of eating dinner together and then spending most of the rest of the night in one or the other's room.

Spencer doesn't know if Ryan's notices that he's been busier lately. It's March, theoretically he could just be getting a head start on his final essays. And he is, sort of. It's just that most of the work he gets done is in the company of Brendon now.

Spencer feels irrationally guilty about this, though when he thinks it through, he knows there's no reason why Ryan would care that he's doing homework with Brendon instead of by himself.

 

\--

 

Brendon doesn't come to dinner one night.

Spencer doesn't know if he should bring something up to him, if maybe he's sick. He goes back to his own room to see if he has any cough drops left from the last time he was sick so that he'll have something else to bring.

He's just leaving his room when he sees Brendon walking down the hall towards him.

"I was just coming to see you," Spencer says, holding up the cough drops as if they're proof of something. "Are you sick?"

Brendon shakes his head.

"No?" Spencer says. "No, of course not. I don't know why I assumed that. I saw you yesterday and you were fine."

They're standing in the middle of the hallway.

"Maybe we should go inside," Spencer suggests.

 

 

"Is something wrong?" he asks, closing the door behind them.

Brendon sighs and runs his hand along the top of Spencer's dresser. "No," he says. "I was just on the phone with my mother."

"And?"

"And I was just on the phone with my mother." Spencer's been friends with Brendon long enough to understand what that means. Almost. Brendon talks endlessly about his siblings, about the adventures they got into through childhood, but somewhere along the way, something happened between Brendon and his parents.

Spencer rubs his hand over Brendon's shoulder. He means for it to be soothing, but when Brendon looks up at him, he worries that maybe he shouldn't have touched him.

"It'll be fine," Spencer says.

"Sorry," Brendon says, twisting his face into something close a smile. "I was just annoyed."

"Of course," Spencer says.

Brendon looks almost sad but mostly just closed off, and something twists inside of Spencer a little bit.

"Hey," he says, reaching for Brendon's shoulder again. "Hey, it's fine."

Brendon looks up at him, but this time Spencer doesn't pull his hand away. He just rubs his thumb and squeezes a little bit. It almost seems like Brendon's leaning into his touch, but Spencer tries not to think about it too much. Spencer tries not think about it when Brendon's head tilts up, and he's still busy not thinking about it when he starts to lean down, and he _can't_ think about anything when their lips finally meet because any thoughts are drowned out by the frantic pounding of his heart.

Brendon kisses him back.

Spencer closes his eyes and twists his hand into the fabric of Brendon's shirt and kisses Brendon slow and gentle, ready to pull back quickly if Brendon decides he's not alright with this and changes his mind about punching Spencer in the mouth.

Spencer can't believe himself for trying something like this. He can't believe that he'd risk his friendship with Brendon, his friendships with everyone else if Brendon decided to tell, his place in the school if Brendon caused enough fuss. Except that when Brendon's tongue brushes over his lower lip, it's easier to understand why.

 

\--

 

Spencer had thought it would be awkward the next time they saw each other, but it isn't.

They're eating supper in the dining hall and Brendon pulls up the chair beside Spencer and asks Ryan to pass him the salt. Like nothing happened.

Spencer teases Brendon about the amount of salt he puts on _everything_ , just like he would if things were normal, and for a minute it's easy to pretend that they are. Not just things between them, but everything. Easy to pretend that there's no reason to be careful about the way he touches Brendon, to always watch that he doesn't wait too long before pulling away when they brush elbows. That he doesn't lean into it when Brendon throws an arm around him and Ryan both, leading them away from the residences and down to the dining hall. That he just roll his eyes and shrug the arm off at the soonest opportunity, the same way that Ryan does. That there's no reason why things would be any different between them.

Almost normal, except that Ryan turns and talks to someone on his other side, turns away from Spencer, and when Spencer glances over at Brendon, Brendon gives him this look. Not like he's angry, either. Just like he's looking at Spencer and for that moment he doesn't care if Spencer knows.

Spencer looks back.

 

\--

 

Spencer doesn't want for it to mean anything more than that, than one mistake.

He doesn't want to kiss Brendon again, but he does anyway, when they're lying on the floor, reading through the lyrics on a pile of albums Spencer borrowed from Ryan.

But that's not quite right. He does want to kiss Brendon again. He'd thought about it, in the days leading up, in the days between, in class sometimes, before he realized what he was doing, flushing darkly, because what if someone could _tell_. When he was alone in his room, which was almost as bad.

He wants to kiss Brendon again, but he shouldn't and he doesn't mean to, but Brendon's near enough that Spencer can see the faint brush of freckles across his nose, left over from last summer, and he can't help himself.

It's even riskier this second time, because maybe Brendon was just doing him a favor the first time, maybe he was just being nice and now Spencer's gone and pushed too far. Maybe in the time Brendon's had to think about it, he's remembered the dozens and dozens of reasons why this is a terrible idea, just like Spencer's tried to remind himself. He's recited them over and over, and still he's lying on the floor, letting the album cover drop from his hands as he twists his head to the side and touches his lips to Brendon's.

But Brendon's head is turned too, tilted up enough that Spencer's mouth meets his easily, and maybe that doesn't mean anything and he should still stop, just stop before he makes anything worse, but instead he kisses Brendon for real, not just a press of his mouth, until his neck aches fiercely from holding it at the awkward angle and he has to pull away.

 

\--

 

 

**fourth**

 

They're in Brendon's room and Brendon's got him pressed up to the wall right beside his closet door. Pressed isn't the right word though, because it implies more force than Brendon's putting into the loose grasp he has on Spencer's upper arm, the other hand barely cupping Spencer's jaw.

Spencer's hard, and he hopes that Brendon can't see. He never knows if Brendon can tell the way that his cock starts leaking, pressing hard into the zipper of his trousers as they touch, awkward and careful and always above the waist, until sometimes he thinks he can't take it anymore. He's not sure if it's like that for Brendon too. He doesn't know if Brendon can tell, if Brendon knows that afterwards, after the long stretches of kissing, he comes in a half minute, biting the palm of his other hand to keep quiet, probably before Brendon's even all the way down the hall leading to his own room. Or what's wrong with him that makes him ache, even when they aren't together, even when he's just thinking or remembering or wishing. Why he had trouble staying focused during the handful of times he actually managed to have sex with a girl, but even the sight of Brendon's forearm when he rolls up his sleeves is enough that Spencer has to read over the same page six, seven, eight times before he can grasp anything he's just read.

Spencer doesn't know, but instead of asking, he kisses Brendon until he has tingles running up and down his spine, then again, soft and gentle before they open the door and Spencer walks back to his own room. He undresses for bed, folds up his clothes, and tries to fall asleep. He holds out a respectable seven minutes before he reaches for his cock, comes so hard that he can't catch it all with his fist full of tissues.

 

\--

 

 

**fifth**

 

"I have a midterm tomorrow," Brendon says, lying on his stomach and pulling up clover from the ground in great fistfuls.

"Yeah?" Spencer says. "In what?"

"It's for that class with the professor who--"

"Oh yeah, I had him."

"I know, did you also have to--"

"Get through the first book of Paradise Lost? Yes, but it was--"

"Not bad? Yeah? That's alright then. Do you still have your--"

"You could borrow my notes, if you --"

"That'd be great. When should I--?"

Spencer swallows. "If you aren't busy, you can come grab them tonight."

"No," Brendon says, "I'm not. I mean, yes, I'll. Be there."

"Alright," Spencer says. He rolls over onto his stomach and drops his head down, looking at the ground. Brendon continues ripping at the clover.

 

\--

 

"How're you doing?" Brendon asks that night when Spencer opens the door to his room.

"I found the notes," Spencer says.

"Good."

Spencer's skin feels raw and tight and ready, maybe. It's still-- It's not a sure thing with Brendon. Spencer still worries each time he leans in that Brendon's going to change his mind, that Brendon's going to stop him and get angry and that everything's going to be ruined after all.

Which is why it's such a relief when Brendon palms his lower back and pulls Spencer onto the bed, crawling up after him. A relief when Brendon leans down and presses their lips together.

Spencer stretches out on the bed along side Brendon, bodies barely brushing together, just the nudge of Brendon's foot against his own, the slight pressure where their knees touch. Spencer's clothes feel rough on his skin, but that's a dangerous line of thought, so Spencer doesn't dwell on it. He just follows Brendon's pace and trails his fingers over the slight stubble on Brendon's cheek.

"Remind me to get the notes before I leave," Brendon whispers. They're so close that Spencer can count his eye lashes.

"Alright," he says.

They lie still together. As Spencer matches his breathing to Brendon's, he feels warm and raw, and almost empty, like everything else has been pushed aside to make room for all the wanting, the longing he feels. It's almost worse with Brendon in front of him, real and solid under his fingers, like maybe the ache is real too, like maybe it means something more than the loneliness-homesickness-stress-loneliness-nerves-insomnia-loneliness that Spencer tries to attribute it too.

Spencer leans in closer and kisses Brendon and licks into his mouth, wet and dirty, and maybe he makes a little noise, but he can't help himself. He pulls away, but Brendon follows after him, kissing his mouth, dragging his lips along Spencer's cheek.

Brendon kisses his way across Spencer's jaw, flicking his tongue over Spencer's earlobe before pressing his lips against Spencer's pulse. He raises his fingers to the collar of Spencer's shirt and starts working the first button open. The first button is always the stiffest, and Brendon has to fumble with it to get to out of the little hole. He stays with his nose pressed into Spencer's skin instead of pulling back to see what he's doing, even though it would be easier that way. Spencer swallows and he can feel where Brendon's fingers are touching his throat.

Brendon gets the button undone and slips his finger to the next one. It's easier getting that one open, the following button easier yet, but Brendon stops after three, before Spencer has to tell him to. He presses the folds of the shirt back, exposing the triangle of skin and leaning down to kiss into the hollow of Spencer's neck. The stiff collar is pushing into Brendon's cheek as he works his lips over the sharp ridge of Spencer's collarbone.

Spencer feels hot and shaky, a little bit like he's being smothered by Brendon's mouth and the other bit like he never wants to breathe again. He tips his head back, exposing more of his throat. Brendon's lips are soft, soft, soft against his skin, moving slowly, barely pressing down. He's careful not to leave a mark. Spencer's vividly aware of the way that Brendon's holding himself up one elbow as he leans over, the other hand holding Spencer's shirt away, the way that Brendon's knee is pressing up against his own, lower on the bed.

Spencer hears a set of footsteps walking down the hall, and they both freeze. Spencer has enough time to desperately wonder if he's remembered to lock his door, and then still time yet to make a plan of pushing Brendon off the bed and pretending that they were rough housing if anyone comes into his room, as apparently time has come to a complete stop. Spencer holds his breath. When finally the footsteps pass by and he feels a puff of air against his neck, he realizes that Brendon's been doing the same.

They lay silently in bed for a few long minutes. Spencer waits for his heart to stop pounding in his chest.

"Sorry," Brendon says, finally rolling away. He sits on the edge of the bed, blowing on his glasses and wiping them off with his shirt.

"It's alright," Spencer says. It _isn't_ but it's still not really something that Brendon needs to be apologizing for.

Brendon's hands fiddle with his tie, pulling it tight before loosening it slightly. "I'm going to--" he says, standing and walking towards the door.

Spencer rolls out of bed and follows, several steps behind. "Good night," he says. Brendon picks up his books from where he left them in a pile on the floor. "Good luck on your test," Spencer calls, as Brendon walks away down the hall.

Spencer pulls out his pyjamas. He pulls his shirt over his head without undoing any more of the buttons and hangs it back up in his closet.

 

\--

 

 

**sixth**

 

Pete was the president of the middle common room, doing graduate work in _something_ , though no one was quite sure specifically what he did, until he got caught going down on one of the undergrads he was supposed to be tutoring in the back room of the library. Pete and Patrick were both expelled from the university, and as far as Spencer knows, they went off to America.

Spencer doesn't want to go to America. He doesn't like their accents, and all of the stories he's heard about Americans involve cowboys. Spencer hates horses.

And also the part where it confirms everything he's ever worried about.

 

 

\--

 

"Did you hear about Pete?" Spencer asks Brendon, five days after Pete and Patrick are officially expelled. They are sitting at the same small table at the library, peeking at each other over piles of books.

Brendon nods.

"That's not-- I mean. They _expelled him_."

"It-- Wouldn't be worth that," Brendon says quietly.

"No, it's not--" Spencer says. "No." Spencer wants to ask if Brendon's as scared as he is, all the time. If Brendon feels like the other people on his floor are looking at him when he meets them in the hall, if Brendon wonders if people can just look at him and _know_.

But Spencer doesn't say anything.

"Do you have a pencil sharpener?" Brendon finally asks.

Spencer doesn't. Brendon wanders off to borrow one from the librarian.

By the time he gets back, Spencer has all of his stuff packed up.

"I've got to--"

"See you later," Brendon says.

 

\--

 

 

**seventh**

 

"I was thinking that we should go in and see a film tonight," Ryan says, sitting cross legged on Spencer's bed as Spencer straddles the chair by his desk.

"Alright, that's fine," Spencer says.

"You want me to invite Brendon, too?" Ryan asks, rubbing along his ring finger to try to wipe a splotch of ink away. Ryan's never mastered the use of ballpoint pens.

"No," Spencer says. "We can just. No. Just us is fine."

"Alright," Ryan says, licking his finger and wiping again at the stain.

 

\--

 

 

**eighth**

 

Spencer's carrying three books more than an armful back to his table so he doesn't notice it when he turns the corner and almost walks right into someone.

"Bollocks," he curses, trying to keep balance of all the books.

"I'm sorry," he hears. "I wasn't looking where I was going."

Spencer twists his head to the side and peers around his stack of books. It's Brendon.

Brendon's eyes bulge. "I didn't know you were going to be. I didn't know," he says.

"Help me carry my books back," Spencer says.

Brendon grabs more than half of the pile and Spencer leads them back to his table.

"Thanks," Spencer says.

"It's no problem," Brendon says. He lingers for a minute, but Spencer stays quiet. "Bye, Spence," Brendon says and brushes Spencer's elbow when he walks away.

 

\--

 

 

**ninth**

 

Someone knocks on Spencer's door. He's tempted not to answer it, but chances are good that it's Ryan and he'll just keep knocking.

It's Brendon.

Spencer opens the door, and Brendon's standing there with his hands in his pockets, and he looks up quickly, meeting Spencer's eyes for a moment before looking back to the ground. He doesn't say anything.

Spencer doesn't know what to do. He leans against the door frame for a moment, staring steadily at the seam running around the shoulder of Brendon's cardigan and counts off his breaths, slow and steady.

Finally, Spencer steps back. "We shouldn't, like this. Someone might walk by."

Brendon looks up, and when Spencer nods, he walks inside.

Spencer walks to the center of the room. It's a small room; only a few steps from the door to the bed to the desk to the closet. Brendon follows him and stands in front of the desk, leaning back against the wood with his legs straight out in front of him.

"I thought we weren't--" Spencer says, trying hard not to map out the line of Brendon's legs.

"I haven't seen you in days," Brendon says. "I thought. I thought I'd just come and ask you to go get tea or something. That you'd probably say yes if I suggested somewhere public."

"Uh, but you didn't--"

"No," Brendon says. He pushes off the desk and takes the step and a half to reach Spencer. Spencer's got his hand wrapping frantically into Brendon's hair, pulling him close before Brendon finishes stepping down.

"Just for a minute," Spencer whispers while at the same time Brendon says, "This can be the last time," which is good enough for the both of them because just like that Brendon's tugging, and Spencer's turning and they're hitting the bed, still twisted together and Spencer rolls them in, closer towards the wall.

Spencer's not quite on top of Brendon, but it's a close enough thing that he still has to hold himself up on one arm as he cups a palm over the patch of neck between Brendon's jaw and the collar of his shirt. He kisses Brendon hard, before pulling back. He makes himself take a deep breath before starting over, kissing lightly, gently along the curve of Brendon's lips, teasing over the seam with the tip of his tongue before dipping in just slightly. He kisses Brendon so thoroughly that Brendon's gasping roughly by the end of it. Spencer pulls back again, and rubs his nose along Brendon's cheek. He twists his hand up from Brendon's neck and into his hair. Brendon's head is damp near the hairline. Spencer's in a thin button up shirt, nothing underneath, but Brendon's got on a cardigan with at least one other layer peeking through.

Spencer pulls away a little bit more to whisper, "Are you hot?"

Brendon's quiet for a long minute. He closes his eyes before blinking slowly, focusing on Spencer, licking quickly over his bottom lip and nodding once, sharply.

Spencer looks down to the line of fat, black buttons leading down the front of Brendon's sweater. He reaches to the top one, hooking his thumb underneath to pop the button free. When he glances quickly up at Brendon he sees that Brendon is watching him. Spencer moves to the next button, darting his gaze back and forth between Brendon and his fingers as he slowly makes his way down the line.

He gets to the bottom. He can see Brendon's chest moving up and down, unsteadily, as he pulls the sweater down past the curve of Brendon's shoulders, tugging it off one hand and then the other. Brendon sits up a little and Spencer pulls the cardigan away from behind him, tossing it onto the floor.

Brendon catches Spencer when he's leaning over and pulls him back down to the bed. Spencer meets his lips when he pushes his head off the pillow and opens quickly to Brendon's tongue. He can feel the heat coming off Brendon's body when he runs one hand along Brendon's side, feeling the ridge of bone where the skin is thinner over his ribs, the soft give when he reaches Brendon's belly.

Brendon is kissing him quick and dirty, licking in further as Spencer opens wider. The heel of Spencer's hand bumps up along the edge of Brendon's belt, and he stops quickly. He rests his hand on Brendon's stomach, just above the line of his trousers. Brendon's shirt slides upwards as Brendon raises his arms to cup the back of Spencer's head and Spencer's fingers slip across bare skin.

Spencer freezes. Brendon's hand tightens across the back of his head, encouraging him to continue kissing, so Spencer inhales quickly and tries to focus on Brendon's mouth. He just needs to pull his hand away. He just needs to stop, really, because this is more than just for a minute.

He licks over Brendon's tongue before pulling their mouths apart and starting to pull away. Brendon follows, pushing off the bed. Spencer can feel the muscles in his stomach flex with the effort.

Spencer meets his mouth again and tries to distract Brendon by biting at his bottom lip while he edges the hem of Brendon's shirt up with his pinkie, slowly, slowly, until he's got it up past Brendon's belly button and there's a stretch of skin wide enough that he can fit his whole hand, fingers slightly spread.

There's a line of fuzz under Brendon's belly button. The skin bracketing it on either side is even softer, maybe a degree or two cooler under his fingertips as he creeps his hand from the center of Brendon's stomach towards his side.

He forgets about trying to distract Brendon with his mouth when his palm meets the top ridge of Brendon's hip bone. He pants against Brendon's lips as he trails his fingers down until he hits to top of Brendon's trousers, then across and over to the over side. Brendon gasps as Spencer's fingers ghost across his lower belly. Spencer wonders if maybe he's tickling him, if maybe he's doing something wrong, but Brendon's got both hands free and he could be pushing Spencer away if he wanted to. He could stop Spencer, but he isn't, he's just lying on his back, letting Spencer work his hand up higher now, under his shirt, pulling it up as he moves his hand over Brendon's torso.

Spencer's just making contact with the tips of his five fingers and the very bottom of his palm. He maps out the textures and ridges. Brendon's skin is soft, but there is no extra flesh anywhere, nothing but the valley between his ribs when Spencer gets nearer to the top of his chest. There's no bra to unhook but Brendon still makes the tiniest sound, more a breath than a noise, when Spencer's middle finger brushes across his nipple. It's different than with the two girls that Spencer's managed to feel up. Spencer tries very hard not to think 'better.' Just different, he tells himself, different, different, different.

He makes the pass with his hand again, to see if he can get Brendon to repeat the sound.

Brendon's shirt is tucked up around his armpits. His hands are still twisted up and reaching for Spencer, but they tighten and release rhythmically into Spencer's hair, his shoulder, with no real purpose.

Spencer straightens the shirt a little bit so that he can get at the buttons at the bottom. He starts working them open, quickly, and keeps his eyes fixed steadily down. Brendon can stop him if he wants to. Brendon can say no.

Brendon will have to make him stop because Spencer sure can't stop himself.

Spencer gets the shirt undone and parts it, tugging it where Brendon's still lying back until Brendon shifts and Spencer can get it all the way off and fuck, there's skin _everywhere_.

Spencer ducks his head down as he crouches over Brendon and just looks. Brendon's breathing loudly, but he mostly lies still as Spencer stares. Mostly lies still as Spencer reaches his hand out again and slides his palm over the curve of Brendon's shoulder, down to the little hollow spot in Brendon's sternum, across the bottom bracket of Brendon's ribs until he curls his hand along Brendon's side and momentarily loses himself in the wet slide of Brendon's mouth when Brendon surges up frantically, crashing their lips together.

Brendon clutches at Spencer's back and pulls him in closer. Their legs get twisted together as Spencer shifts to keep his balance.

Spencer's harder than he's ever been in his entire life, and Brendon must notice, Brendon must be able to tell from the way that Spencer's hips are brushing up against his thigh. Spencer's heart pounds in his chest and he tries to move away. Brendon takes advantage of the movement by untwisting their legs, spreading his thighs so that there's room for Spencer and pulling him back down. Spencer needs to roll away, he needs to have stopped this five minutes ago, but he lets Brendon pull their bodies together, line their hips up, and fuck. Spencer shudders and tries not to groan as their cocks push together, just barely, and through layer and layers of thick fabric, but it's still so good. And Brendon's hard too, and Brendon's pushing up against him, and when Spencer drops his head and kisses along Brendon's neck, he can keep kissing lower because there's nothing to stop him. No shirt between him and the smooth ridge of Brendon's shoulder, his collar bone, nothing between his fingers and the soft skin of Brendon's side.

Brendon braces his heels on the bed, and when he presses up again, it's less of a quick thrust and more a grind, and Spencer gasps, but Brendon's skin is under his nose, and he smells amazing. Spencer already knew this, already knew how good it feels and smells to be close to him, but this is the first time he's been able to press his face to bare skin and, fuck-- Brendon hooks one ankle around the back of Spencer's knee, and their cocks are lined up just right, and it's so good that for a minute Spencer thinks he can't stand it, that he's just going to crumble apart all over Brendon, fall to pieces against Brendon's skin.

Brendon groans. Brendon groans and he's shaking and his hips are jerking up against Spencer's hard and quick and Spencer presses his head into Brendon's neck and comes.

 

 

"Oh, fuck," Spencer says, roughly. He rolls away from Brendon to the edge of the bed, flailing awkwardly to try to grab Brendon's shirt off the ground. His fingers finally catch in the material, and he sit back up, holding the shirt out for Brendon to take. There's a purple circle just under the line of Brendon's collarbone, darker around the edges, like maybe Spencer had set his teeth into the skin.

"Fuck," Spencer says. "Fuck, I left a-- There's a mark."

"It's fine," Brendon says, voice shaky. "It's not where anyone can see."

Brendon's just holding his shirt in his hands, clutching the material, and Spencer can't think. They just need to-- They need to get dressed and change their trousers and just-- They can figure something out. But he can't think with all of Brendon's skin still visible, and the way he's slumped against Spencer's pillows on his _bed_. Spencer reaches for Brendon's shirt, because if he can just get him dressed then they could figure something out. Spencer's shaking the shirt, trying to figure out where the arm hole is, trying to figure out how to cover Brendon, but Brendon's reaching for him, and wrapping his fingers around Spencer's wrists, and pulling him back close again, and fuck. Spencer bites Brendon's lip, hard, and pushes him back against the bed.

They rock together, kissing messily, as Spencer rubs his hands up and down over the bare skin of Brendon's back. Spencer's fingers slip lower and lower, dipping into the hollow of Brendon's lower back, pressing down, pulling him close while Brendon's own arms twine around Spencer until they are flush against each other. Spencer's hands slip lower yet, cupping Brendon's ass as he pushes one thigh in between Brendon's legs, until Brendon groans, raw and shaky, and they let go of each other quickly and scramble to opposite sides of the bed.

Brendon grabs his shirt and pulls it on quickly, buttoning it up. The buttons don't line up quite right, like maybe he put one in where it wasn't supposed to go.

Spencer swallows and tries to control his breathing, tries to ignore the disgusting mess in his trousers and what just happened and that there's a mark on Brendon, under his shirt now, but a mark still. And Spencer made it.

Brendon's got his cardigan on now too; he's ready to leave, but he looks over at Spencer for a minute first.

"That was," he says. "We shouldn't have."

"I know," Spencer says quickly. Fuck, he knows.

"I can't-- Stop," Brendon says slowly. "I can't, so it has to be you."

Spencer folds his arms across his chest and clenches his jaw. This is probably the most unfair thing another human being has done to him in his entire life.

"I'm sorry," Brendon says, like maybe he knows that too.

"We can't do this again," Spencer says, firm and sharp. Brendon's eyes widen, but he nods and nods and walks towards the door and says, "Alright," and closes the door behind him.

Spencer sits on his bed, just for a minute, just until he can think clearly again, then he stands, strips off his socks, gets rid of his dirty trousers.

 

\--

 

 

**tenth**

 

Spencer still sees Brendon sometimes. He runs into Brendon chatting with Ryan one day, and the three of them go for tea. When Ryan has to take off for his tutorial, it's almost more than Spencer can stand to offer to walk him to class, instead of staying at the table with Brendon, but he manages.

 

\--

 

 

**eleventh**

 

"Have you heard anything about what happened to Pete?" Spencer asks Ryan as they walk towards the dining hall.

"Yes," Ryan says. "He sends me letters sometimes."

"You were. You were friends with him, still?" Spencer asks.

Ryan give him a sharp look. "What? Don't tell me you actually agree with what they did. Kicking him out for something which had absolutely nothing to do with his academic performance."

"No," says Spencer quickly. "No. I just didn't know. Is he-- How's he doing?"

"Really good, actually," Ryan says. "I think he's still mainly grateful that Patrick came with him. I always told him that he would, but I guess he never believed me."

"You told him?"

"That if it came down to it, he and Patrick could find somewhere else to go together. That'd it work out fine."

"Yeah?"

Ryan nods.

"And it. It did?" Spencer asks.

"Yes," Ryan says. "It isn't always going to be like this, you know. It isn't always going to matter."

"You think so?" asks Spencer.

"Yes," Ryan says, with absolute certainty. "Things are going to change. One day."

Ryan has that look in his eye that he used to get sometime when they were kids. Some brilliant plan that he had come up with that could _work_ , he was sure of it. And sometimes it even did. Sometimes they got away with it without getting detention. Often enough they got away with it that Spencer always believed Ryan when he got that look. Even now, sometimes. Maybe.

"That's," Spencer says, and clears his throat. "That would be good."

 

\--

 

 

**twelfth**

 

Spencer's room feels tinier than usual, claustrophobic like he never noticed when Brendon was there with him.

Spencer wishes he could poke at his brain until he found the part that is reminded of Brendon constantly, that insists that it would be easy. Easy to walk over to Brendon's room and say that he didn't mean it. And Brendon said that he wouldn't stop him, like maybe if he went over he could have Brendon like he wants, like he tries not to think about but mostly can't help himself.

It's past midnight. They're adults; they're allowed to come and go as they please, but there would be a lot of questions if he were to get caught going to Brendon's room, this late at night. A lot of questions he wouldn't be able to answer.

He goes anyway.

 

 

He's standing in front of Brendon's door, wondering if he should knock, wondering if he should just go back to his room, or for a walk, or something that doesn't involve trying the door handle to see if it's locked.

It isn't.

Spencer pushes the door open quietly. Brendon's probably asleep, Brendon doesn't even have to know he was here if he just takes the two steps backwards into the hallway and walks away.

"Spencer?" Brendon murmurs from under the covers in his bed.

Spencer closes the door carefully and walks over. "It's me."

It's dark, but there's still enough light rushing in past the flimsy blinds that he can make out Brendon's form. He's got his covers pulled up to his chin, but he starts to push them down when Spencer gets near.

"What's it?" Brendon asks, quietly. Spencer wonders if Brendon was asleep yet, how awake he even is now.

"I just. I came to see you," Spencer whispers. "Do you want me to leave?"

Brendon pulls back the corner of the comforter and Spencer crawls into his bed, into his arms, and holds on tight.

 

 


End file.
